This Modern Love
by emily.down
Summary: "Ann Blake," Crane repeated amused. "Has a certain ring to it. So, Ann Blake, are you ready to admit you are a Brother - or should I say, Sister - of the Knight?" Bane/OC.
1. Chapter 1

_So, I got inspired to begin this after reading some very nice Bane stories on ffnet (one of them is in my Favorites). I wanted to write my own, so here it is. I've always fancied the idea of John Blake having a sister, because she'd be as stubborn and badass as he was in the movie. Hopefully, I'll be able to do her and John justice. _

_Also, Bane was my favourite character in The Dark Knight Rises, which should come as no surprise since Tom Hardy killed in that role.  
_

_Anyways, please R&R :)_

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_You told me you wanted to eat up my sadness_  
_ Well jump on, enjoy, you can gorge away_  
_ You told me you wanted to eat up my sadness__  
_

_(...)_

_ This modern love breaks me_  
_ This modern love wastes me_

Bloc Party - This Modern Love

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I.

The show-trial had never been more captivating.

Everyone, from criminals and casual bystanders (who weren't that casual, after all) to helpless victims watched with unwavering attention as the procession of sixteen and seventeen-year olds clad in shabby hand-me-downs walked up the distance towards the pedestal of rickety desks behind which Jonathan Crane, judge, jury and executioner, waited, gloating openly.

Normally, no one would have been that excited to witness an execution-trial, because most of them by now were not only repetitive, but downright identical. There were those who put up a fight and got tossed down the ice and those who didn't; those who simply bowed their heads and cowered – and those were subjected to painful humiliation and _then_ tossed down the ice.

But this was the first time the court was sentencing children to death. They weren't too young, but not very old either; just the right age to make the entire ordeal not only uncomfortable, but strangely suspenseful.

There were four boys and two girls, huddled together in a weak formation and they looked so scared, but so brave at the same time that you had to wonder if they would try to fight their way out, like so many others before them.

Of course, they weren't alone. They were accompanied by a middle-aged man and a young woman, who were trying in vain to keep them back, to put themselves in front of them, to protect them from what would happen.

These were the children of Gotham City's Orphanage.

Crane coughed, hiding a smirk and arranged his glasses as the middle-aged man and the young man approach the first row of guards standing before his pedestal.

"It looks like we've got a bunch of early bloomers in our midst. Badly dressed, as usual, but I can let that slide," Crane quipped, scanning their group sharply. "So, what have you ruffians done to offend us?"

One of Bane's unseen and unheard henchmen, who had been standing some feet away from the procession, stepped up and pointed his gun at the children's heads.

"They were causing a hell of a riot at the Vault. Tried stealing weapons too, the bastards. The tall, blond one seems to be the leader," he spoke, pointing at a lanky boy in the middle of the group.

"The Vault? Is that so?"

Instinctively, the young woman at the front shook her head and took the boy's hand in hers, squeezing it in reassurance. She glared at the henchman.

The middle-aged man raised both hands in supplication.

"If we could please make our case – or at least try to – please."

"By all means, old man, give it your best shot," Crane offered, waving his hand towards the crowd to be quiet.

"T-Thank you. Your man is right, they were caught at the Vault, but you must believe me, they did not cause the uprising. I swear there were already people there trying to burn down the barracks. They just happened to find themselves in a crossfire!"

The henchman interrupted him. "Even so, what were they doing there in the first place? And why didn't they leave? The Vault is off-limits."

"Oh, you know how young people are! They wanted to be part of something! I'll admit they're not always well-behaved, but they're just _children._ Innocent, thoughtless, impetuous children who didn't know any better. They're orphans and they don't have someone to guide them, to make them understand what has happened to their city..." the man trailed off, trying to find a way to acquit them without showing his obvious disdain for Gotham's new rule. "I blame myself for not taking better care of them, but they are not guilty of any crime."

"Orphans, you say? Hmm! So you expect me to make an exception for orphans? Most of us here are orphans so to speak, and we embrace the new freedom gladly, don't we?" The crowd cheered loudly. "They should be happy to be orphans."

"But consider, please, how hard it must be for them," the middle-aged man tried to intervene, but Crane shook his head and leant forward, staring them down.

"And why should I believe they're innocent? Why didn't they try stealing food? Why weapons, if they're so innocent?" he spat, obviously enjoying the show.

"They _were_ initially looking for food! I can vouch for that! They're always hungry. The Orphanage is in danger of being closed down and we don't have any provisions left. You must understand, they weren't looking for any trouble, they just want to survive," the man tried again feebly.

"No provisions left? You keep them malnourished? Outrageous! What is your name, old man? I must write you down for being such a lousy guardian," Crane mocked, taking out a fake file.

"I – I work at the Orphanage. My name is Wilson. Rick Wilson."

There was cackling and guffawing all around the crowd as Crane tipped an imaginary quill and spoke out loud as he bent down to write:

"Wilson Rick. Pathetic excuse of a man. Is responsible for the exile of not only his _miserable_ person but that of six "_innocent_" children as well."

Wilson's eyes widened in horror. The boys and girls shared terrified looks. The young woman placed her arms around them, trying to shield them off from the outside world.

"No!" he shrieked, like a wounded animal. "You can't! I – please, these children have done nothing wrong! Please have mercy! They were foolish, but they didn't steal anything!"

"Oh, but they tried to, didn't they?" Crane asked, eyeing the henchman for confirmation.

His gruff voice echoed against the tall ceiling. "They would've succeeded, but we caught them in time."

"Oh, that's too bad. I was really hoping to exonerate them," Crane quipped, leering at the audience. "Oh, well, seems my hand is forced this time–"

"Oh, would you stop this charade already! Everybody steals in this town! You and your men rule by that principle! And you are condemning children for doing much less?"

The entire audience was suddenly jolted by this angry rebuttal. It came from the young woman in the front who had grown restless, trying to calm down the children.

"You can't steal shamelessly and then turn around and punish theft just because it suits you at a particular moment in time! If you base your entire system on crime and anarchy, don't expect the people around you to just sit by idly and not fight back using the same methods you so righteously preach!" she continued, growing a temper.

She had been quiet, so far, watching and not interfering, because she had promised Wilson she'd let him talk. She knew lashing out wasn't particularly wise, but she couldn't take it anymore.

She couldn't stand the self-satisfied smirk on Crane's smug face.

Wilson tried to grab her shoulders to pull her back, but she had already stepped out from the group and was staring fiercely at the crowd and the "judge", almost daring them to deny her words, almost hoping they would so she could throw their hypocrisy back in their faces.

Crane frowned momentarily, displeased at being so rudely interrupted and shouted at. He called for "order in the courtroom".

"And who might you be, buttercup?" he asked, staring down at her with a cold smile. "You are very _opinionated _for someone in your position."

"It doesn't matter who I am, what matters is that you listen to what I have to say. People have been punished for much bigger crimes than petty theft and you know it. Everybody here does. To have these children exiled for doing little to nothing at all is not only ridiculous, but cowardly," she spat, forcing her voice to remain even. She was trembling from the excitement and adrenaline.

"Ridiculous?" Crane echoed, feigning confusion. "Is it such a farfetched notion to punish _traitors_? And here I thought that our main business was getting rid of cowards, not becoming ones!"

The young woman tried to respond, but Crane wouldn't let her.

"Or is traitor and coward not the same thing? Because I don't see the difference."

"They're not traitors! _What_ and _who_ have they betrayed exactly? They only tried to do the same thing everyone else is doing!" she retorted once she found her footing again.

"_Everyone?_ Now that's being unfair to the people of Gotham. Not all of them are part of an underground alliance of rebels, are they?"

That finally seemed to make the young woman falter.

"I – an alliance? What kind of alliance? The children wouldn't know anything about it."

Crane smiled viciously.

"No, they wouldn't of course. Not at first. But who can keep secrets in Gotham? They'd find out eventually. And then they'd desperately want to join because their two favorite mentors are already members. Young people like to emulate their role models, don't they?" he asked, glaring at her and Wilson.

Wilson, who had gathered more courage, spoke up again.

"There are thousands of such alliances around town, if you haven't noticed! And neither we nor the children are part of any!"

Crane rolled his eyes, seemingly bored.

"Oh, sure, thousands, I agree, but none like yours. What do you call yourselves again? Brothers of The Knight, was it? Brothers of... the Bat?"

Both their stomachs sank at the sound of that name. Panic was etched across Wilson's face. They had been found out.

But the young woman shook her head stubbornly.

"Brothers of the Knight? That sounds more like a joke. No one here believes in that anymore," she stated boldly, trying to appear convincing. "The Batman has become mere legend."

"Mere legend is enough for a bunch of idiots to start an organization in his name."

"Maybe some have, but I haven't heard of any. What exactly are you accusing us of, anyway? And what is your proof? You're calling us traitors for what? Being found on the premises of the Vault?" she asked, trying to remain as firm as before.

Crane smiled slyly.

"Oh, there's more to that little story, I'm afraid. And here's what I think happened. Some of these kids here found out what you were about and wanted to prove that they could join the ranks, that they could be "knights" too. So far, so good. Except you hadn't planned for that to happen. You always discouraged their enthusiasm and thought it wouldn't amount to much. But then they got braver and stupider and they begged for you to let them fight. Until, finally, you couldn't stop them anymore. They took matters into their own hands and tried to loot Bane's personal supplies."

"Which, by the way," he said, turning to the boys and girls, "is probably the most idiotic thing I've ever heard of. How did you think you could even get out of the building? Either you are a bunch of simpering morons or you have a death wish. I don't see anyone with half a brain doing something like that."

He turned his attention back to the young woman.

"Tell me if my retelling had any inaccuracies."

"Apart from everything, you mean?" she spat, refusing to back down, although she was starting to feel nervous. "You make up secret alliances and brotherhoods, but no one is trying to hide anything. This entire city is openly raging against you and wants to storm down the Vault. It's not the children's fault if they're caught in the middle."

He chuckled, shaking his head amused. "Your defiance is impressive, I'll give you that."

"You'd better come clean, though, before I actually lose my patience and send those kids to their deaths. We both know you're part of the alliance," Crane added, all humor gone from his voice.

"You can't punish _them_ for what you think _we_'ve done! If you want to kill us, go ahead, but at least admit that there's no reason to threaten the children!" she cried, growing desperate.

Oh, there is every reason to threaten them. They tried to endanger the new order, didn't they?"

"That's nonsense!" she retorted.

"Silence! If the next words out of your mouth aren't a confession, I'll have to take matters into my own hands!" he barked, nodding towards a couple of masked men behind him.

Wilson grabbed the young woman's arm and pulled her towards him.

"Ann, please, we should tell them –"

The woman raised her eyebrows in shock and pulled her hand away, shaking her head vigorously, but it was as good as a confession and Crane knew he had them in the palm of his hand.

"Oh, _Ann_, is it? Now we're getting somewhere!" he cried, watching them intently.

"Look, spare the children and have at us, all right? Please, just spare these innocent lives and take us!" Wilson began his pleading anew.

"Care to share a last name to that?" Crane asked, ignoring Wilson.

The woman named Ann wrinkled her nose and glared at him, but she suddenly felt a warm hand coil around her arm and when she turned, she saw one of the boys, Martin, the youngest, holding onto her, his eyes wet from crying, silently begging her to help them.

She pulled him to her and whispered in his ear, assuring him she didn't plan on losing them and had never even entertained the idea of letting them die. "I won't let that happen."

"I'm waiting, Miss Ann!" Crane shrieked, making some people in the crowd flinch.

"It's – it's Blake. Ann Blake," she replied wanly.

The name, though unknown to most, stirred a small reaction from a particular corner of the room, cast in the shadows.

"Ann Blake," Crane repeated amused. "Has a certain ring to it. So, Ann Blake, are you ready to admit you are a Brother - or should I say, _Sister_ - of the Knight?"

Ann clenched her fists and kept quiet, her eyes glued to the children's.

"Should I take your silence as a yes?"

She refused to speak.

"Very well then! How about you Wilson?"

The middle-aged man pressed a hand to his forehead and spoke in a small, withered voice: "I - I confess."

"Excellent! I would like the court to note that the accused party have confirmed the accusations. Now, let's see, who is willing to die first?"

Ann lowered her head. "If you ensure the children's safety, I will gladly die."

The entire audience burst into laughter at the solemnity of her voice.

"Oh, how noble of you! But you're not in any position to strike deals with me. In fact, you should be begging me for mercy."

"All right. I'm not above begging," she said, looking up at him with the same fierce expression. "We both know these kids are harmless. In fact, they're not even part of the equation, are they? They're not the targets. We are."

She lowered herself on her knees with a great thud that echoed dreadfully around the room. The audience gasped.

"So, please. I beg of you. Exile us and let them go. You want _us_ dead, after all."

Wilson quickly lowered himself too, as if to say he wanted nothing more.

Crane mused over their request with great pleasure. He took a sip from his champagne glass which was filled with strong liquor.

"I don't know… it all sounds very tempting, killing two Bat lovers with one stone. I might even hang you up to make an example of you, should any other Bat enthusiast come along," he spoke lazily into his fist, suppressing a yawn.

"Oh, I've got a better idea!" he suddenly cried, standing up. "How about I kill you two first while the young ones watch? I bet they'd love to see that!"

The crowd went insane. Everyone was in love with the idea and cheered Crane on. "Perfect!" "Genius!" "Let them watch!"

Ann and Wilson shared a horrified look.

"Then, if I feel like it and they behave, I might not make them walk the ice," he added as an after-thought. "It's the best deal you'll get, anyway. And look how pleased everyone else seems to be with the arrangement!"

Ann looked back at the children. They seemed even more terrified by the prospect of watching them die.

Most of them were in shock and couldn't even speak, but none of them tried to escape or leave the group. They stuck together to the end.

Ann would have felt proud under different circumstances.

"Oh, well, time's up, you two!" Crane barked at them. "I'm afraid we're just going to assume that's a yes. We need to get on with more important cases so my men will escort you to the ice. Don't worry, the kids will be right behind you. We'll see if they survive."

She didn't have the time to reply, although she would have enjoyed spitting in his face. Four men grabbed them from behind and blindfolded them, after which they were dragged out of the room, down the stairs and pushed into a tunnel.

All the while, she could hear Wilson's erratic breathing next to her and the kids' shuffling behind them.

"Martin? Sally? Austin? Julie?" she called out hoarsely. "You guys all right, back there? Andrew? Sam?"

They all murmured something incoherently and one of them, she guessed Andrew, the lanky, blond one, muttered something similar to "horrible feeling about this".

One of the henchmen burst out in laughter as one of boys fell to the floor. "This one's wet himself!"

Ann wanted to struggle out of their grip to help the child get up, but she was still blindfolded and the men were pretty strong.

She half-crawled, half-clambered out of the tunnel hole, at length, and was met with the crisp, frozen winter wind lashing at her face.

It was almost nightfall and the cold had only increased.

The blindfolds were cast off and she could finally see the huge body of frozen water in front of her, stretching out to the deserted bridge, wide and empty, like a bottomless abyss.

The night sky was bleak and starless, just as she had expected.

She turned back to see if the kids were all right, but they were all crammed in the neck of the tunnel, watching them with agony in their eyes.

She sighed in relief. At least they weren't on ice yet.

The ground underneath her feet felt slippery and treacherous. She thought Crane must see this as poetic justice.

For the first time, she allowed herself to fully grasp the fact that she was going to die, stiff and frozen from head to toe, floating under that thin white surface like the parody of a shipwreck.

And it wouldn't be only her. Something deep and sharp cut into her chest; the children had been her responsibility and they were hanging under the same threat.

She felt so angry, so blindly furious at being so helpless that the deadly terror was pushed aside and she wanted nothing more than to claw her way out of this man's arms and run with her kids, blasting through anyone who might stop her. She felt strong enough in that moment because she knew it was inevitable. She knew it was either fight to the death…or just death.

She hissed at Wilson who was stooping next to her and nodded her head towards the henchman who was currently tying her hands behind her back.

She was trying to signal him. He understood. Mute as it was, it was a cry for help. She was asking him to act.

Although much older, Wilson was stronger and if she created a diversion big enough, he might be able to escape or at least keep the men occupied so that the children could run.

They exchanged a few more meaningful looks and then they silently agreed they would do their best to offer them that chance.

Ann pressed her back against the henchman's chest, the contact surprising him momentarily after which she shouted very loud:

"Andrew! Take off!"

With that, she sank her heels into the man's feet and then flung her elbow at his face, almost hitting his jaw.

He hadn't expected as much because she didn't seem the type to know how to fight.

He was quick enough to catch her as she slid away from him, but was only rewarded with a heavy boot in his solar plexus as she scurried off.

Wilson, in the meantime, had managed to knock down one of the men, but the other two were already pushing him down on the ice.

"You heard Ann!" Wilson shouted helplessly at Andrew, the group's young leader, who quickly snapped out of his trance and pulled his friends back into the tunnel.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do or where he was supposed to go, but he didn't want to let Ann down. Not after she'd given him this opening.

"One of you, go after them!" one of the men shouted, weighing Wilson down with his knees.

Another one caught Ann by the shoulders, punched her hard in the stomach and as she doubled up, he threw her down on the ice and she half-rolled, half-glided away from him and further into the frozen abyss.

Wilson quickly followed after her, but he was already unconscious. His face was battered and bloodied. The two henchmen had taken out their anger on him and had given him a good beating.

She tried to stretch her arm towards him, but she could already hear the soft cracks underneath her trembling stomach and she couldn't risk moving any further.

Even though she was just delaying the inevitable, she didn't want to die, not yet, not ever.

"Wilson! Wilson! Rick!" she yelled, her voice hoarse from the cold. "Wake up! Wake up!"

The ice crept into her bones and coursed through her veins and she felt that she could die just from standing there another half-hour. She probably would.

A curious thought occurred to her; she was struggling and dying all in the name of Batman, in the name of Gotham. She almost wanted to laugh.

And then she thought of her brother. He would have been very proud, very proud indeed. But inconsolable. She was his only family as she was his.

She hated that her last minutes were going to be wasted on an unconscious body lying next to her, while her loving brother, John, was somewhere far away, unable to say goodbye.

Oh, if he could be here now…

There was movement coming from the tunnel. Her heart leapt and sank at the same time. Had the children come back? Were they that reckless? Had the henchmen caught them and dragged them back?

Oh, God, what if they decided to punish them for running away?

But her fears were dispelled by something altogether different and perhaps even more frightening.

He jumped out and she felt the entire earth shake and the thin layer of ice quickly breaking under his weight.

He was a man and a machine. He was the man with no face. He was Bane. The one she'd seen and heard of so much. The terrorist. The great author of Gotham's fall. The Dark Knight's murderer.

He was wearing a thin jacket, even though the cold was now unbearable and she could see the pulsing muscles bulging out of it monstrously and the dark skin breaking through the fabric.

"Ah, I see I am on time," he rasped, his voice a sinister combination between a hiss and a growl. It was strangely soft, though, and articulate.

She caught his figure from the corner of her eye and raised herself on her elbows, feeling a sudden rush of anger. She was sure he had come to watch them die.

The henchmen all cowered before him like ants and he pushed them aside, disinterested.

"Leave. I wish to speak with her alone," he said, not bothering to look back at them as he stepped onto the ice.

They were unsure for a moment, but only one, before they nodded their heads and silently obeyed him, disappearing into the tunnel.

Bane crouched down to her level and watched her intently. She was the only breathing, living thing on the ice, like an insect trapped inside a glass jar.

She scrunched her eyebrows at him. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Her anger turned to confusion. Hope slowly crept up on her. He had told his henchmen to leave. If he wanted to talk, maybe he wouldn't let her die.

Then she heard a harrowing noise to her left and watched in complete horror as Wilson's legs suddenly collapsed into the freezing water. The ice had cracked underneath him and he was sinking in, slowly, agonizingly.

"Wilson! Wilson!"

She stretched her arm as far as it would go, but her fingers only brushed against cold air. He was too far.

"Wilson, no!"

Half his body was already in the water.

"Damn it, Wilson!

Now she was desperate. Her desire to live was so great and her survival instinct so powerful that she couldn't care less who Bane was if he could get her out of there. In those moments, he wasn't the most dreaded terrorist in Gotham, he was her possible means of salvation.

Before he could utter a single word, she raised herself on her palms and, feeling the fragile ground underneath her fingers, she flung one her arm towards him, in a desperate plea.

"Help me! Help me, please!"

The sudden request almost confounded him.

"Don't let me die! Help me!" she cried once more.

His black, beady eyes widened slightly as her arm dangled in front of him stubbornly.

This young woman had just asked him for help. She had just asked a former League of Shadows member to help her. She wanted him, the enemy, the one who had sentenced her to death, to pull her from the ice, to save her life.

The only other person who had ever dared utter those words to him without fearing the consequences had been –

No.

No, it was nothing like it.

Well, she _did_ remind him of her, if only a little, which was very strange since he only ever thought of her when he was completely alone.

Maybe it was her dark-brown curls or the fierce look in her eyes. Most likely it was the tone of her voice, frightened, but calm, pleading but demanding too, as if it was her right and his duty to save her.

He wavered, unsure for a moment.

Her suppositions had been correct. He had indeed come to watch her die, but what she didn't know was that he also planned to take her dead corpse with him before she succumbed to the icy waters completely.

He wanted her dead body displayed at the heart of the city so that John Blake, her stubborn detective brother, and the rest of the Brothers alliance should witness the fall of another one of Batman's supporters and more importantly, for Bruce Wayne himself to see from his prison cell what his name was doing to Gotham's people.

He wanted to teach a lesson in blood, as always, because that was the most effective lesson of all.

But he would be lying if he did not admit he also wanted to break John Blake.

The stubborn cop had been a sore in his backside ever since the beginning of his chaotic reign and although he could respect his brand of valour, he deemed it more foolish than useful to display it so vehemently and spite others so thoroughly.

He had been the one to lock up Selina Kyle, after all. No matter that she had been given her freedom back; that didn't change the fact that John Blake had been snooping around for him.

He was quite sure Blake, along with Officer Gordon, were the founders of the Brothers of The Knight. They were his most vocal supporters.

However, none of these thoughts stopped him from taking her arm.

He did it almost mechanically, as if that had been his intention all along. He lowered his body further and extended his own hand until warm skin met with cold.

With a swift and effortless motion he pulled her towards him almost as if she were made of feathers and she glided into his body with a soft thud.

For a split-second, her body stayed glued to his in an attempt to absorb the warmth, but then she quickly crawled off, slipping and sliding down the ice, trying to get away.

He easily caught her by both legs and brought her falling back towards him. Her back collided with his chest.

"Stop moving, you little urchin," he growled at her, his metal mask making the hair on the top of her head flutter.

She turned towards him and he held her arm to keep her from slipping on the ice.

"I – sorry, thank you. But I'm not a child," she spoke, trying to extricate herself from his grip.

She looked up at him without flinching and their eyes met briefly, but she couldn't help staring at his metal pouch.

"It is rude to stare, Ann Blake."

"You know my name?"

"Of course I know. It is my job to know. You are the detective's sister."

She supposed that he had been in that room during their so-called trial, hidden from sight. But if that were so, she had to do everything in her power to convince him that she was not _that_ Blake.

"Detective? I don't know what you're talking about. I don't even have a brother," she said, feigning confusion.

He breathed out heavily. "I warn you not to insult my intelligence. Or yours. I do not spare lying fools."

"I'm not lying. I don't know any detective. It's probably just a coincidence – it's a common surname–"

"Quiet! I would only have to bend my arm a little to crush your skull against the ice. Lie to me again and find out."

Ann glared at him through the cold.

"Fine. What do you want with me?"

"Is that how you show your gratitude?"

She lowered her eyes and shook her head. "What are you going to do with me now?"

He sighed, flexing his muscles.

"I _was_ going to let you die, you see, but you would not let me," he replied, the words coming out like a strained hiss.

She blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"So, I must do with you alive," he continued, ignoring her question. "Your brother might, in fact, be more pliant towards a living body, rather than a corpse."

"You can't mean – leave John out of this!" she cried, panic rising in her throat.

"No, I'm afraid I can't do that," he rasped.

"You won't get to him! Not through me! I won't allow it!" she shouted, trying futilely to push him off and run away from his grasp, but he pulled her to him once more, his grip unrelenting.

"Didn't I tell you I could crush you?" he growled.

"John is not going to fall for your ruse, whatever you've got planned!" Ann spat angrily.

"Knowing your brother, I won't have to do anything. He'll come to me."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Blood is thicker than water."

Ann shook her head, smiling bitterly. "John knows there are more important things than that right now. He knows it's about the city, not just one person, even if they're family."

"Words, Miss Blake. Words. But his actions will speak louder. After all, a living body, with a living mind, can be damaged much more than a lifeless corpse. Let's see how he reacts then, shall we?" he said softly, his voice a gentle lull, almost as if he were telling her a bedtime story.

She heard the words coming out of his mouth, but she couldn't process them. All she could see was the darkness stretching out in front of her for infinity. And she could feel the freezing gale digging holes into her coat. She shivered slightly, staring at the water opening in the distance. Wilson was down there now. He was never coming back.

A terrible thought shot through her conscience briefly – where were the children? –, but it was squashed by the sudden loss of oxygen and the overwhelming nausea. He had already placed a cloth to her mouth and his giant hand was holding her in place.

She soon fell into his arms, like a lifeless doll, her shallow breathing the only sign that she was alive.

In no time, he was carrying her back through the tunnel, cradled at his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi everyone, new chapter's up :) Thanks to all the lovely people for the wonderful reviews so far (**From Rue With Love, Idunn, Fett012000, Shawnee14, Lea-cat12**). _

_I hope the story remains as exciting in this chapter, although it's a bit different. It reveals a lot more about Ann and what you can expect from her in the future. I know the big action starts next chapter so this one seems mostly filler, but it's really necessary filler which I hope you will enjoy :)  
_

_Please review if you have any thoughts!_

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II.

John had taught her two essential things to do in captivity: first, if you've been unconscious for a while (and she had), check if you have undergone any serious injuries, like internal bleeding or broken bones. Second, you must search and locate all possible exits.

The first part she managed to cover in the first few minutes when she came to. She was very tired, hungry and thirsty, but other than that, her body was in perfectly good condition. She had been searched, obviously, since her clothes were disheveled and her pockets were inside-out, but they hadn't stripped her.

The second part was problematic, to say the least.

She was standing in a cubicle. There was no doubt about it; it was a small square of four beige walls. And there were other several cubicles to her left and right.

The door was missing, so she crouched down and got near the opening, to have a better look at her surroundings. She was in a large office-area crammed with cubicles. There were shredded papers and torn wires lying all over the floor, some abandoned hard drives and laptops, all broken down, smashed into smithereens and a dozen empty dustbins rolled up into a corner.

The area seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it yet.

She looked up and down the corridor between the cubicles, but she couldn't see or hear any of Bane's men lurking about. But there were other sounds: light snoring, heavy breathing and someone was moaning softly. She was reminded of a hospital at night.

She was not sure if it was night, though. The windows were sealed up and no light came through. There was only the artificial light coming from the ceiling.

_There must be others like me, trapped in this room,_ she thought. _They're waiting for someone to break them out. _

Except, the odd thing was that, raising herself a little on her toes (there was no furniture inside her cubicle), she could see the double doors at the front of the room and they were open. There was no one guarding them.

So, by the looks of it, they were free to go.

_Of course it's a trap_, she thought. _But what kind of trap? If I went along and pretended to fall for it, could I somehow fool them into letting me go?_

Well, if she anticipated it, she was already one step ahead. But Ann sighed despondently, knowing that was not nearly enough.

She bent down and extracted the small folding-knife she kept in her boot. John had given it to her as a birthday present many years ago. She had sewn it into the fabric of her boot, in a hidden pouch that was very hard to find, so she was not surprised they hadn't noticed it when they had searched her. It was something she always carried around, not only for safety reasons, but because her brother had carved her initials on the handle.

She tried to form a plan in her head. You always needed a plan, something to go by. Her thoughts were muddled and she needed to straighten them out.

From what she could glean, the only exit from this room was through those double doors. Any other window or door was sealed.

The double doors weren't guarded, but there could be shooters right around the corner.

There were other people in the cubicles around her, people who might, under special circumstances, pose a threat to her, but she wasn't worried about that now; they were obviously not strong enough to pass through those doors, seeing as they were still here. Most likely, they were just harmless victims.

Even if they rounded up on her, she could go through the double doors and they wouldn't follow her. The open corridor was probably a lot more dangerous, but at least she had a way out.

Of course, if they _were_ just harmless victims, maybe they could help each other.

_But what if you knew them? What if - _her heart suddenly stopped.

What if the children were here?

She felt cold beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She had to find them. She had to make sure the children hadn't been caught.

She pressed the knife to her palm and slowly crawled out of the cubicle on her hands and knees, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Sure enough, three cubicles further down, she found three people, two men and one woman, all in their thirties, sleeping. Two of them were huddled together in a corner, while the third sat near the doorway, his chin in his chest. He was probably supposed to keep watch.

Ann didn't want to wake them, not yet. Maybe these were the only hours of sleep they were getting. Maybe this was the first time in ages that they _could_ sleep.

She carried on in silence.

She found five other people, most of them middle-aged, sitting round a dustbin, trying to set fire to some bits of paper. They were arguing in hushed whispers, but none of them actually cared what the other was saying.

They turned their heads softly in her direction when she passed by, but she pressed a finger to her lips.

"New one, eh?" one of the men asked. "Thinks she can go by unnoticed?"

Ann shook her head and whispered:

"Have you seen any children around here? Teenagers?"

They all looked at her strange. Perhaps they hadn't expected this to be her first question.

"No, _Miss_, it's only us here, old and young, but no children," another man replied.

"They don't bring children here," a woman spoke up. She was wearing a very scruffy-looking cardigan and her eye sockets were sunken and blue from exhaustion.

"Where is _here_?" Ann finally asked.

"The City Hall," they all answered together.

Now it made sense why she had thought it looked familiar. She and the orphans always visited it around Christmas to sing carols.

"So what did _you_ do? It must've been pretty serious if they brought you here," another woman opined.

"What do you mean?"

"Part of the Resistance, maybe? You must be political, anyway," someone else chimed in.

They all looked like ghosts to her, ghosts who had died a long time ago and were not allowed to leave the scene of the crime.

"Are _you_?" Ann asked. "Are you part of the Resistance?"

"Aren't we all, one way or another?" the woman in the cardigan replied sharply.

"Don't worry, most of us here are just harmless college professors," the woman from before intervened appeasingly. "Apparently, we were filling our students' head with the old drivel of democracy."

"Instigating them against the new order of things," a man added cynically.

"No, Harry, we were keeping them in the dark, that's what they said, that we were preventing their "natural evolution"," she corrected him.

"Oh, thank you, Alice, I've mistaken one idiocy for another."

Ann stared at them in disbelief. They were locking up college professors? But then, it made sense, of course, as the intellectuals were always the most dangerous.

"Well, mind you, they _did_ find out about the Alliance. What's yours called, dear? You must be part of one. Everyone is."

Ann cleared her throat. "Tell me about yours, first."

The woman called Alice looked back at Harry and smiled in sadness.

"Well, there's not much to tell. It's been quashed irrevocably. We're the only members left."

"My husband, Robert," the woman in the cardigan suddenly interrupted them in a broken voice, "he was the one who founded the Alliance. He was Vice Dean of Gotham University. He - they took him. I don't know where, but they took him, so there's no point in hiding it."

Alice patted the woman on the shoulder as if to soothe her, but she looked at them without flinching, as if she was proud of her tragedy.

"_The Alliance for Gotham_," Harry spoke, dissipating the silence. "History already."

"Mine was _Brothers of the Knight_," Ann blurted out, her stare still fixed on the woman in the cardigan with the sunken eyes.

There was a visible reaction among the group. They hadn't expected that.

"Supporters of...of Batman?" Alice asked, warily.

"Yes."

"But isn't he supposed to be dead?"

"It's never been confirmed. They never found a body, so we can't be sure. And even if he were, we would still believe in him. We follow his example," Ann told them, feeling a small surge of pride well up in her chest.

Harry snorted. "Sounds a bit like a religion, doesn't it? Is he your promised Messiah?"

"No, we don't want to crucify him for our sins, if that's what you mean. We don't want him to save us; we want him to help us do that ourselves."

"But _can_ he do that? Even if he's not here anymore?"

"Of course," Ann nodded her head. "He gives us strength."

"Inspiring words from someone so young. I don't suppose you ever believed then that he killed Harvey Dent."

"I never did," she said firmly.

Harry smiled. "Admirable. You knew it before we did. Before that masked freak announced it to the world."

Ann knew he was talking about Bane. He had told everyone about Harvey Two-Face Dent.

"What else do you believe, hmm? Do you believe the Batman will kill the man with the mask?"

"His name is Bane," she said fearlessly. "And Batman won't kill him. _We_ will defeat him, one way or another."

"_We_? You and what army? Your _Brothers_?"

"Not just us. Your Alliance too. This whole city."

"Ah, that's the stuff of fiction. The city has never been _whole_ to begin with."

"Doesn't mean it can't act as one."

Harry shook his head. "Such blind faith, where will it lead you?"

"In the same place as you, apparently," Ann replied coolly.

Alice chuckled. "She's got you there."

"Are there others in this room? Others like us?" Ann asked.

"Not in here, but there are other rooms out there. They're all occupied with dissidents "like us", although I would say we're quite different."

Ann shook her head. "Different or not, they can't get out either, can they? It's a trap, isn't it? The open doors?"

They all shared a conspicuous look.

"Not exactly," the woman in the cardigan muttered, looking down.

Ann furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"What do you mean not exactly?"

"There's no one on that corridor," Harry explained. "I mean - you'll find men further down, but they only guard the main entrances. You can go and see for yourself. They don't touch you unless you want to go through any of the main doors."

"Are you telling me that we can walk freely as long as we're not trying to escape?"

"In a way, yes. But it's - it's worse than staying here. At least here we stick together and we know where we are, but if we go out there, well... who knows."

"The guards change places," Alice clarified, "so you don't know if you're going to come back the same way you went down."

"It's ingenious, if you think about it. They separate us and kill us slowly. We're like rats in a labyrinth," the woman in the cardigan added bitterly. "You have nowhere to go, nothing to do, you just wander around aimlessly, until you collapse somewhere alone, forgotten."

"They only bring food and water to larger groups," Alice clarified once more. "But they don't allow too many in one room. That's why there's only a handful of us here."

"Others have left, trying to find a way out. They haven't returned," Harry said grimly.

There was a pause during which Ann mulled over what she had heard.

"So, the only way to stay alive is to do nothing," she concluded angrily.

"By all means, try if you must! Try and find out!" the woman in the cardigan snapped, her eyes darkening. "Go ahead and fight your way out! We'll never see or hear from you again!"

"We won't be seen or heard from again anyway," Ann argued. "We're only prolonging the inevitable if we choose to remain here."

"You're not actually serious?!" Alice exclaimed. "You're not thinking of - "

"Why not? Why shouldn't we try? If we're a larger group, we can find our way back easier," Ann suggested.

"There's no _we_! If you're on a suicide mission, I'm afraid you're on your own. We can't help you."

"But don't you see how vulnerable we are here?" Ann asked, incredulous. "If what you say is true, then we're at the mercy of a group of armed strangers who can very easily stop sending food and water any time they want. They don't even have to shoot us. They just have to be cruel or careless enough to do it. And you're telling me you'd rather bet your chances on that than see what's out there?"

"We _know_ what's out there," Harry retorted.

"No, you don't, obviously, since you probably never got too far, or only heard stories," Ann replied incensed.

Harry looked as if he had been slapped.

Ann quickly realized her mistake and regretted her careless words.

"I'm - I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to say such things. I'm sure you gave it your best, I didn't mean to take it out on you. It's just that -"

"No, it's fine," Harry sighed, turning away. "You're not completely wrong. We _didn_'_t_ get too far. We didn't have to. We were smart enough to turn back."

"You probably think you've got more chances than us," the woman in the cardigan said, sizing her up. "You're younger and stronger maybe. But you're naive and impetuous. You don't know what's right for you."

"Whatever's right can't be in this room. Not when there's a chance - " Ann argued, but someone interrupted her. Someone who came from behind her.

"There is one chance. But it's pretty damn insane."

She almost jumped out at him, knife ready in her hand, but she stopped when she recognized him. It was the man she had seen sleeping in the other cubicle. The one who was supposed to keep watch.

"Oh, it's you Charlie, I thought you were asleep," Harry said, greeting him placidly.

"Nah, only slept for about ten minutes."

"What do you mean it's insane?" Ann asked, turning to Charlie.

The man scratched his head and made a noise between a chuckle and a cough. "Because it can't be done."

"Charlie, this girl doesn't need to hear about that stuff. She's already got it in her head she should leave," Alice warned him.

"She's right, Charlie, leave it be," Harry agreed.

"No! Please, I want to know, no matter what it is."

Charlie sighed. "They have a point. You shouldn't bother with that. You can stay here with us."

"Look, if you don't tell me, I walk out that door anyway. At least give me something to go on, unless you want this on your conscience," Ann told him coldly.

He whistled in amazement, but it was a broken, hollow whistle.

"You're a tough one, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. Not really. I just want to be able to say I tried, at least," she said, looking downcast. "I can't just stay here. I don't have that kind of willpower."

"Now she's being modest," Charlie mocked her. "Fine, I'll tell you, but you won't like it. There is an exit on the ground floor. Well, it's not really an exit, but it's a way out, theoretically."

"Theoretically?"

"It's the only place the windows aren't blocked."

Ann was about to interrupt him, but he held up a finger. "Not so fast. The only way to get to the windows is to climb up- "

"The marble plaques," Ann finished for him in a bleak voice, her face ashen. Her worst fears had been confirmed.

"Well, yes. How did you know?"

"I've been here many times. I've seen the museum and there's no other place with high windows."

It was true. The museum was situated near the main entrance and there was a wall in it that was adorned from floor to ceiling with plaques of former mayors and war heroes. They were thick enough to climb, but very slippery.

And she realized why Charlie and everyone else thought it was pointless. If you ever did get up there and you broke out through the windows, you'd find yourself trapped on the roof, because there was a considerable distance between City Hall and the building next to it.

"Okay. I understand now," she replied bitterly.

Charlie pressed a warm hand to her shoulder. "Don't torture yourself thinking about it. It's all a big mindfuck anyway."

The others flinched at the word, but said nothing. She looked up.

"I mean they obviously did it on purpose. I think they even want you to make it to the ground floor just so they can watch you struggle for nothing."

Ann closed her eyes in frustration. "Sounds like something they would do."

But then, if this _was_ something they would do, then maybe...

"Not so high and mighty anymore, are you?" the woman in the cardigan asked, smiling.

"No, but I still want to try it."

Everyone gaped at her.

"You're insane," Charlie blurted out, shaking his head.

"What do you mean you want to _try_? Are you mad?!" Alice exclaimed. "Did you not hear Charlie? The only way out is their idea of a sick joke!"

Ann hesitated, wondering if she was indeed going mad.

But, no, it was logical.

"If what Charlie says is true and they really _do_ want you to climb those plaques just so they can watch you make a fool of yourself, then it's possible to reach the ground floor without being stopped. That's still something."

"But what does it matter if you get there?! It's still in vain!" Harry wailed, shaking his head.

"Perhaps, but don't you see? They've left an opening. That is their _mistake_. If they can risk security just to enjoy some "sick joke", then they're not bent on keeping us here. Or at least it's not their main goal," Ann explained, hoping they'd understand.

They all gave her blank stares.

"Look, they haven't considered all the variables. Not if they're letting people get to where they want. They're acting too confident and that means they're going to slip."

"Well, why _shouldn_'_t_ they be confident? It's not like any of us are a threat to them. And anyway, how do you know all these things?" the woman in the cardigan inquired, eyeing her suspiciously.

"It's just logics," she said wanly, trying to avoid the subject. Now was not the time to think of John and how they used to train together.

"It may sound smart in theory, but it can't get you very far, kid," Charlie said, shrugging his shoulders. "You're unarmed and on your own, you won't get past them, no matter how much you think it over."

Ann frowned. "Don't call me kid. And don't talk down to me. I know it's very unlikely that I'll get out of here; that's not my goal now. My goal is to get to the ground floor."

"And I don't have to be on my own. You could join me," she added, staring at them expectantly.

Alice shook her head, as if dismissing an errant child.

"I don't know who you are, but I haven't met anyone so stubborn in my life. Can you at least postpone your great mission until we get some food and rest? You look like you need it too."

Ann was about to protest, but her stomach growled with hunger and her entire body felt sore.

"If you could spare a bit of food, I would be grateful," she spoke reluctantly, looking down."But I can't postpone it for long."

"You won't find any food or help where you're going," the woman in the cardigan interrupted again furiously. "You talk big but I'm sure you'll be sitting here with the rest of us for a long time."

"Oh, stop it, Helen!" Alice chided her. "She has the right to do whatever she wants, even if we don't agree with it."

Ann was grateful that someone seemed to be on her side and smiled at Alice weakly.

"I should go back and see if Sarah has some spare bread for you," Charlie said suddenly, turning back to his cubicle. "I'll let them know we've got another "tourist"."

"Tourist?" Ann asked confused.

"It's what we call the people who decide to leave," Alice clarified.

"Dorothy! Is there any cabbage left?" she called to a younger woman in the back who was busying herself with some wrappings.

Soon, they were all gathered round the dustbin (which Ann found out was their dinner table) to eat what was left of their food. Charlie brought with him the man and the woman who had been asleep. They both greeted Ann rather coldly, because they heard of her plans to leave.

Clearly, being a "tourist" here was considered selfish and idiotic.

"We should save up. It'll be two days till we get more food. We usually count it up like that. I suppose they feed us twice a week. Not every week though," Harry explained.

Ann was eating in silence, thankful for even those small morsels that were so crucial for her survival.

She was beginning to have second thoughts about leaving, naturally. Helen's constant rebuttals were getting to her. And it wasn't just Helen; these people were being kind to her, sharing their food, giving her advice, trying to persuade her not to go, and all she did was oppose them.

"You? Work with children? In an orphanage?" Charlie asked, astonished, when she told him what she did for a living. "I'd never peg you for someone patient."

"I know, it seems hard to believe. And I'm not that patient, I guess. But that's what I do. And I love my children. They love me too."

"Well, no wonder they do! Young people always respond to shakers like you," Harry commented, winking slightly.

"Oh, definitely. My students would follow you everywhere," Alice agreed, chuckling to herself.

"Maybe that's not such a good idea..." Ann trailed off miserably. "I lost my kids. I think they managed to escape, but I don't know what happened to them and it's killing me."

"I don't think you should worry too much, they don't have any use for children," the woman named Dorothy told her.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"You have to worry about yourself now. And you have to stay here. You know that by now, don't you?" Alice asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ann sighed, placing her head in her hands.

"Look, I admire you all for keeping your hopes up and being so brave, sticking together, but I can't do that. Maybe I'll come back, maybe I won't make it, but it's too much for me. I - I guess Charlie's right. I'm just not very patient."

They didn't talk much about it afterwards, because the conversation went along the same lines and Ann was simply not giving in, even though she was tempted at times.

Charlie and Harry thought she might change her mind after she had some sleep, but Alice felt she'd leave very soon.

As for Helen, she only said one more thing to her during their provisional dinner:

"If you get up there, if you reach that window, jump. It's what I'd do."

* * *

Many hours later, she was lying awake next to Sarah, the woman from Charlie's group - Charlie had invited her into their cubicle - and she was counting the moments until she could get up unheard. She needed a drink of water or some form of liquid to quench her thirst.

After that, well, she knew she had to leave, but a part of her wanted to stay here with them. She knew she wouldn't bear it for long, but they reminded her of her children, somehow, and she almost wanted to stay for them.

She recalled what Bane had told her that night.

_A living body, with a living mind, can be damaged much more than a lifeless corpse._

Ann chuckled. Bane didn't know her very well.

Maybe they'd get her body, but never her mind. And she would make sure that, either living or dead, her body couldn't be used against John.

* * *

Half an hour later Ann was standing in front of the double doors, knife between her fingers.

She had also broken down the insides of a Hard drive and taken out the actuator, which was pretty sharp and could be used to stab or hit someone effectively. It was stashed in the back pocket of her jeans. Then there was a pin she had found on the floor - probably from Sarah's hair - which could be quite useful too.

She would have liked to take more wire, but she couldn't hide it all on her, so instead she had cut it in portions and taken a small roll she could stuff in her jacket. It would come in handy in climbing or tying up someone. Even asphyxiation. She didn't want to resort to that, though.

As for the shredded bits of paper, she had put some in her boots. She would leave a small trail behind if she wanted to go back or remember which doors were being guarded.

She took in a deep breath.

"I'm ready."

* * *

_So, I think everyone's noticed the parallel between the Pit and the City Hall museum. Hope it's not too heavy-handed. It seemed fitful to me._

_Oh and for a cooler read, you should play L'Arena from the Kill Bill soundtrack right towards the end of the chapter :)  
_

_Hope you enjoyed it.  
_


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